Flowers Up Your Ribs
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: It all starts when the barrista hands Hermione the wrong order. OS collection, muggle!AU.
1. Meet Cute

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event - HermionePansy, First Meet and the Roald Dahl Day Event: Coffee cream room - Coffee-shop!AU.

 _Word count:_ 962

 **Meet Cute**

At this time of the day, the Starbucks down the street from her university is filled to the brim with sweaty and exhausted students―something that, unfortunately, includes Hermione as well―but it's also the cheapest and closest option for the only drinkable coffee on campus (unless you've burned out all of your taste buds already), so Hermione deals with it for yet another day, daydreaming about the days she used to be able to stay awake on willpower alone.

See, the thing is that Hermione hates the taste of coffee. The smell is fine, but the taste just makes her flinch every time, and no amount of sugar, cream and other sugary things ever quite manage to hide that bitter aftertaste that lingers on her tongue. Plus, all that sugar is terrible for her teeth, so if she has to suffer through this beverage, Hermione prefers not to add that her pain.

Drinking her coffee black makes her seem like some kind of otherworldly being to most of her friends, who heap mountains of whipped cream and sugar on top of their coffee, but it also means that once Hermione's chugged down the repugnant liquid, she can clean out her mouth with some water or some mint-flavored gum and not feel like there are cavities waiting to ambush her whenever her tongue brushes against her teeth.

Her parents would kill her if she ever came home with cavities one day―she's almost twenty now, but they still insist on checking out her teeth whenever she comes back home for a visit.

They're actually the reason she's decided she'd never go into the medical field―if she ever has children, she won't become her parents, who still can't get over her getting an operation to adjust the size of her too large front teeth.

Today is a particularly bad day, though, and Hermione's dreading to have to ask for a bigger dose of coffee than usual. She's got social studies followed by a history class next, and while she finds both subject fascinating, her teachers have a tendency to drone on and on and put half the class to sleep.

Normally that wouldn't be too much of a problem, but she was up late putting the finishing touches to a paper last night, and she got less sleep than she'd have liked. Add to that an unfortunately early wake-up call when her neighbors started yelling at each other an hour before her alarm clock could ring, and Hermione is practically sleepwalking her way to class this morning.

She needs this coffee to get through her day.

But her tired state means that she doesn't even notice that when the barista hands her a cup of coffee with an illegible name scrawled across it, it isn't her order.

It isn't until the liquid touches her lips, Hermione already bracing for the bitter taste that will soon follow, that she realizes that there's been a mistake.

"That's not coffee," she states flatly, staring at her cup in confusion.

"No, it's tea―chai tea, to be exact," a voice interrupts. "And it's also mine."

Hermione blinks up and finds herself staring at a girl holding out her right hand demandingly toward Hermione. Her nails are painted a red so dark it's almost black, and her eyes are painted with the best smoky eyes Hermione's seen outside of the makeup videos she had tried once in high school.

She's also holding onto what can only be Hermione's coffee with her other hand.

"Well?" she asks. "Aren't you going to give it back?"

"I drunk from it already," Hermione replies stupidly.

The girl sighs heavily, sending a dark glare to the overworked baristas buzzing around the counter back inside the shop.

"I know," she replies. "I was there―I saw you do it. But I'm also already late for my next class, and if I have to go back inside and ask for a new one someone will die, because then I'll actually be missing my class, and if I'm more than ten minutes late the teacher will kill me.

"So, please," she continues, dark eyes bright with a determination that does things to Hermione's stomach, "give me my tea. I'll even give you back _your_ disgustingly black coffee, unless you'd rather get a new one."

Hermione chances a look inside―it's still as busy as it was thirty seconds ago, but she can hope―and deflates, swapping cups with the other woman.

"Awesome."

Hermione looks down at her coffee, and she's about to drink it―once again bracing herself for a few moments of bitterness―when she notices the dark lipstick smudge on the top. Her heart flutters.

"Hey, wait," Hermione calls out as the woman starts to leave, "did you drink from this too?"

"It seemed only fair," she quips, lips pulled into a smug smirk. She winks, and then she leaves so quickly it's almost as if she outright vanished from existence.

if Hermione couldn't see her retreating back as she practically runs toward the university buildings, she'd think she'd made this whole thing up.

"Uh," she says to herself, lips pulled in a little, absent smile.

It's not until she's almost in her own class, and about to throw her empty coffee cup away, that Hermione notices the scribbled note on the side, its handwriting so different from the quick (and misspelled) Hermione written in black sharpie on the paper.

It's short, but also unmistakably inviting.

It's a phone number, followed by a very curvy _Call me, Pansy_ and a winky face.

It makes Hermione skips a beat, and she almost empties half her bag onto the ground in her hurry to get her phone out and type that number in.

It seems like her day is finally looking up, though.


	2. First Date

Written for the Granger Danger Event: PansyHermione, First Date.

 _Word count:_ 1063

 **First Date**

Pansy is the one who plans their first date, almost two full weeks after they've first met. It may seem like a lot of time, but for Hermione, who's juggling between classes, homework, more homework and trying to start her own charity for disfavored children, it flies by in the blink of an eye.

The fact that Pansy seems unable to stop texting her about everything that happens during her day, from selfies of her having breakfast to what new stupid thing her classmates have said, does help greatly in that.

Still, she hasn't actually seen more than a few glimpses of Pansy in passing in those two weeks―their fortuitous first meeting at the coffee shop seems to, unfortunately, have been a one-time thing―and so, when the day of the date arrives, Hermione is more anxious than she's ever been in her life.

Even her A-Levels hadn't been this stressful―though in retrospect that might be because of how much work she'd put in those, enough that she'd been confident she wouldn't forget anything important.

There isn't any kind of similar revision work she can do for social interactions with a girl she likes, more's the pity.

Hermione isn't one to be really into fashion, but she still makes an effort to put together a nicer outfit than what she'd worn to class. Pansy's still refusing to tell her where they're going, only saying that they can walk there from the campus and that it's a restaurant she's heard good things about, so Hermione doesn't have a lot to go on.

She settles for a soft cream blouse she loves and the dark blazer her mother gifted her for Christmas last year, and black jeans. She puts on some pink lip gloss, too, and concealer, but she stops there, well aware that makeup isn't her forte. At all.

She meets Pansy not far away from the Starbucks where they'd first met―a Starbucks that she's quickly come to refer to as _theirs_ , at least in her mind―and when she sees Pansy arrive, her breath catches in her chest a little.

Pansy looks radiant in the dying light of the afternoon, and when she finally notices Hermione, she blatantly checks her out, a smile spreading on her lips slowly.

"Hi," Hermione breathes out nervously when Pansy reaches her.

"Hi," Pansy echoes, still smiling. She doesn't let the silence grow awkward, immediately offering Hermione her hand and saying, "Shall we?"

Hermione laughs, slipping her hand in Pansy's, entangling their fingers. It makes her heart race, how easy and natural it feels. It's a little scary, honestly, how much she likes Pansy already. "Let's," she says, refusing to let her mind ruin this moment for her.

Pansy hadn't lied―the restaurant _is_ a short walk away from the campus.

It's also called _The Slytherin Corner_ , and it's a new place that Hermione knows asks for in reservations. As in, _almost a month in advance_ reservations.

"How did you even get us a table there?" Hermione whispers urgently, gaping a little, as the waiter shows them to their table.

Pansy flutters her eyelashes coquettishly, smirking. "Oh, have I impressed you?"

Hermione snorts, but she can't find it in herself to lie. "Maybe," she replies. "So, how did you?"

Pansy shrugs, fingers slowly tracing the edge of her cutlery. "Let's just say that I know some people."

Hermione doesn't quite know what to say to that, so she just nods.

Even if this restaurant isn't exactly the kind of place where Hermione would normally feel at ease, there's something about Pansy that makes it easy to relax in her company. By the time their food arrives, Hermione has managed to forget how out of place she'd felt in this fancy place.

The conversation flows easily, just as it had in their frequent text messages―Hermione finds that Pansy's anecdotes about her classmates are even more hilarious when she gets to see Pansy's unimpressed glower as she narrates them, and in return Hermione tells Pansy about the kind of trouble her best friends used to get her into back in high school.

"Trouble which I'm sure you had nothing to do with," Pansy teases once Hermione finishes telling her about the time Harry, Ron and herself ended up locked in the teachers' room after class and had to choose between climbing out of the window or getting detention.

(they had chosen the window)

"Of course not," Hermione laughs, faking offense. "I would never," she swears, putting a hand over her heart―though she's rather sure that the smirk she can't quite repress betrays her.

They talk about their families a little―Hermione has plenty of funny stories about weird clients of her parents, like that one guy who only realized that he wasn't at his doctor's but rather at a dentist's when he walked _out_ of his consultation (the leading theory is that he'd been high n something), while Pansy confesses that her parents had her late, so they're both retired now.

"I honestly don't know what they do with their days, now," she says. "But they seem happy, which I guess is the most important thing."

Her face softens as she says it, and Hermione's heart at how obvious Pansy's love for her family is.

"I don't think my parents would handle retirement well," she chuckles. "They'd get bored, and my father would probably blow up half the garage trying to work on his car, and then my mother would murder him and end up in prison."

"And we wouldn't want that, now, do we?" Pansy laughs, the sound crisp and sharp but undeniably beautiful.

Feeling bold and daring, Hermione quips, "I don't think she could pull off a prison jumpsuit, no."

Their desserts arrive while they're still laughing, and the waiter eyes them with amusement as he puts down Hermione's chocolate fondant first, and then Pansy's strawberry shortcake.

Pansy must notice the way Hermione's eyeing her dessert―in her defense, it looks amazing―because she huffs a laugh and pushes her dish a little closer to the center of the table, clearing out their empty glass out of the way with her other hand.

"Want to share?"

Hermione feels herself smile, and she pushes her own dessert forward with nary a pause. "Sure."

And later, when they kiss, Hermione tastes chocolate and strawberries, and she can't stop smiling for the entire walk home.


	3. Love

Written for Hogwarts' Roald Dahl Event - Raspberry plops - Write about a family/couple picnic and the Writing Club – Day of the Month, Quiet Day - Write a fic without dialogue and the Granger Danger Event – HermionePansy, Falling in Love.

 _Word count:_ 954

 **Love**

It occurs to Hermione after the fifth time she finds herself doodling Pansy's names circled with little hearts on her lessons that she might be in trouble.

It's not that she's never known love before―Ron and she had dated for almost the entirety of their last year of high school, mutually ending their relationship when it became clear that not only did they make better friends than lovers, but they also wouldn't have much time together once they graduated, since they weren't going to the same college―but it feels different with Pansy.

They've only been on a few dates, to begin with―partly because busy and conflicting college schedules don't allow for a lot of relationship time―but also because they haven't known each other for more than a few months.

It feels too fast for how strong Hermione's feelings already are, but then Pansy shows up with a fresh cup of coffee or Hermione's favorite sugar-free cupcakes from her favorite bakery when Hermione has an early class, and Hermione forgets why she ever was so scared.

And it's not like she thinks Pansy's perfect, no, far from that. She knows Pansy has her fault―chief among them how snobbish she acts at times, and how she's never quite aware of it at first.

She corrects it quickly when someone points it out, and she always apologizes and looks mad at herself for doing it, but it's the kind of behavior that's ingrained deeply, and it makes Hermione think that had they met before this, she and Pansy would have probably hated each other.

It's a thought that makes her stomach twist uneasily. She doesn't want to imagine a world where Pansy isn't by her side, isn't on her side.

This feels like the kind of love people write stories about. She recognizes the odd flutters in her stomach whenever Pansy smiles her way, or smirks, or laughs (or basically does anything) as those elusive butterflies dozens of authors have mentioned before.

Hermione had just never realized that they were an actual thing before.

She had never realized that love could be so pervasive, invading every inch of her brain until each and every one of her thoughts lead her back to Pansy.

If she sees a new book, or a new restaurant, she wonders what Pansy would think of it. If she gets some free time―which is, unfortunately, very rare―he first reflex is to check if Pansy is free, too.

When she wakes up, she sends Pansy a good morning text. When she goes to bed, she sends a goodnight text.

She's not alone in this, though―Pansy is the same, if not worse than her. She's doing a major in journalism and a minor in political studies, and either her workload is lighter than Hermione, or she's always on her phone, because she sends snaps and texts all the time.

It is heartwarming, to know that even if Hermione is falling fast, Pansy seems to be doing the same.

Which is why, when she keeps doodling her girlfriend's name everywhere, Hermione decides that she should probably just tell Pansy she loves her.

By some great stroke of luck, two days later Hermione's lecture is cancelled at a time where Pansy is free.

 _Hey, are you free for lunch today?_ she texts. _My first afternoon lecture just got cancelled, so we can do something together._

 **Sure** , Pansy texts almost immediately. **You still by your classroom? I can be there in thirty minutes, or we can meet elsewhere.**

 _Yeah. I thought maybe we could do a picnic thing too, since the weather's so nice today._

 **Ugh, you know I don't like picnics…  
But if you insist, I guess I could suffer through one  
for you**

Hermione rolls her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she types back, _I'll make it up to you_ and _I swear you won't regret it_.

 **Well then I look forward to seeing what you'll come up with**.  
 **Meet you there?**

 _Meet you there_ , Hermione confirms.

She doesn't even need to say where 'there' is, they both know it can only be one place, their place―the one spot in the gardens by the university where they always go to when they have the time.

It's easy enough to purchase a couple of sandwiches―turkey for Pansy and ham for Hermione―and some nice desserts to go with them, and before she knows it's happening, Hermione is kissing Pansy hello and sitting down on the blanket Pansy had so kindly thought to bring―Hermione had suggested they use their coats, and Pansy had stared at her like she was mad.

And it's just… It's nice, is what it is. So very nice. They don't really talk as they eat, but they don't need to, and once they're done eating, they take turn inventing stories for the people that passes them by, strolling through the park.

Hermione's heart feels so light it could float out of her chest, but when Pansy finally finishes spinning the story of how that one couple were obviously on vacation FBI agents who had stumbled onto a case they needed to keep secret, it hits her that this love is nothing to be scared of.

Being with Pansy is easy. And maybe in the future that will change, maybe they won't last, but Hermione refuses to be the one to freak out and ruin everything, when Pansy seems just as happy with how things are going as Hermione is.

She refuses to break her own heart, and Pansy's, because she's afraid of being in love.

After that, saying the words out loud is the easiest thing Hermione's ever done.

And hearing them said back… Well, there's no feelings quite like it.


	4. Fighting

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event - First Fight, the Writing Club: Best of Wives and Best of Women: (object) a letter, and the Roald Dahl Day Event: Rocky road - Write about a relationship going through a hardship.

 _Word count:_ 1026

* * *

 **Fighting**

Hermione had never thought that Pansy would be one for screaming matches—which is a relief, because Hermione isn't one either—but now she almost wishes Pansy was, that she would just get truly mad at her, maybe yell a bit, because this empty face just makes their fight worse somehow, as Pansy grows cold and mean when she's angry, and Hermione would prefer shouting over the way Pansy's eye ice over.

"Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me?" Pansy asks—and yes, if this was someone else, they'd be shouting now.

But it's Pansy, so instead her voice is as dry as the Sahara and as cold as the dead emptiness of space.

Hermione tries to move toward her, to take her hand in hers, but Pansy leans back, crossing her arms unforgivingly.

"I meant to tell you," Hermione confesses. She wants to sit down and drop her head in her hands—anything, so she doesn't have to see that dead look in Pansy's usually so expressive brown eyes—but she can't, because Pansy will keep standing, as unyielding as a block of ice.

"It wasn't that big of a thing," she continues, and then winces when she spots Pansy's eyes narrowing. "I mean, when I signed up for this thing, they told me they'd be in touch soon, and so when they weren't, I thought it had fallen through, that I wouldn't get to go this year." She shrugs, looking pleadingly at Pansy, desperate to have her understand. "I swear, I didn't hide this from you on purpose."

"You're going, though. You're _leaving_ ," Pansy replies, her Hermione doesn't understand how her voice can be so steady when she's so obviously hurt.

"I am, yes," Hermione replies, because there's no use in lying. She squares her shoulders. "I've been wanting to do something like this for years, Pansy. I love you, you know I do, but I'm sorry—I can't just give this up, not when that would mean turning my back on people who need me."

She lets her voice soften. "It's just for six months," she says. "I won't be gone forever."

Pansy scoffs, the first reaction Hermione's seen in what feels like forever—it doesn't make her feel better. "And I'm what, just supposed to wait for you? 'Sorry, Pansy, but I'm leaving in three weeks for half a year?'"

Hermione feels her heart break in her chest. "I don't—you don't _have to_ wait for me. I-I realize that it's a lot to ask, and that just because I love you doesn't mean that you owe me anything, but I just…"

She pauses, taking a deep breath to try to steady her voice. "It would mean a lot to me, if we at least tried to make the long distance thing work. I know it might be hard, but we can do it. Pansy, _please_ , I don't want to lose you over this."

Pansy remains imperturbable.

"I swear," Hermione repeats, "I meant to tell you, but I just didn't think it mattered since I thought I hadn't been selected."

It's the truth—Hermione has been wanting to participate in charity work every year for the last five years, but this year had really been the first one where she had thought she had an actual shot at going through with it. When she hadn't heard anything back after sending her file, she had honestly believed that to be it, and had started planning on reapplying next year.

She hadn't expected the envelope that arrived this morning—the envelope that Pansy had found opened on Hermione's kitchen table when she had come to visit.

The way Pansy had looked, when she had shoved that letter at Hermione, would probably stay engraved in Hermione's memory forever as one of the worst moments of her life.

"You didn't even tell me that you had applied," Pansy finally says, her voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. Yet, her words pierce Hermione's heart like an arrow.

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione says, blinking tears away rapidly. "I should have, I know I should have."

Pansy's face seem to warm an imperceptible amount. "Then why didn't you?"

"I don't know," Hermione says, but, no, that's not quite true, is it? She does know.

It's too terrible, too tangled to voice though. How is she supposed to say that she didn't confide in Pansy because Pansy doesn't understand Hermione's appeal toward charity work, that she was afraid Pansy would do or say something that would make Hermione love her less.

Or worse, that it wouldn't. That Hermione would forgive her anything, just because she loved her.

"You didn't trust me," Pansy states, and if her eyes aren't cold anymore, Hermione doesn't have time to rejoice, because the self-deprecating downturn of her lips is even worse.

"No, that's not-" Hermione gasps urgently, stepping forward and toward Pansy until she can take her hands in hers. "Of course I trust you."

"You didn't _then_ , though," Pansy points out, and Hermione is relieved to see that Pansy doesn't sound angry anymore.

She does sound a little tired, though, and Hermione's heart goes out to her.

"I'm sorry; but I swear, I do trust you now."

Pansy's eyes burrow in Hermione's. It feels like Pansy is trying to see into her very soul, and Hermione has never wished for anything more than she does this—she simply prays that whatever Pansy sees in her eyes convinces her that Hermione truly is sincere.

Finally, Pansy eases against Hermione a little, her captive hands twisting in their hold until she can slip her fingers through Hermione's. She sighs.

"So, you're going to Africa for six months then?" she says, and it's as much of a peace offering as anything.

"Yeah," Hermione replies, her throat tight with emotions, "I am."

Pansy's grip on her fingers tightens. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Hermione replies, the hint of a smile tilting her lips upward. "I'll call you when I can, and I'll write you letters every day—it'll be romantic, you'll see," she jokes.

Pansy huffs haughtily. "I expect very long letters, then," she says, and Hermione laughs.

They're going to be alright.


	5. Long Distance Call

Written for Hogwarts' Career Advice Assignment: Write about an individual that gets injured on his/her job, the Writing Club - Showtime: Cabinet Battle #1: (dialogue) "Would you like to join us?" and the Roald Dahl Day Event: Rainbow room - write a femslash romance.

 _Word count:_ 902

* * *

 **Long Distance Call**

It feels oddly empty, going on with her life without seeing Hermione every day. Ironically enough, it is her absence that makes Pansy realize just how much time they spent together—it is only now that she can't without paying absurdly high fees that Pansy realizes just how much she was texting Hermione.

It's not like she can't still message Hermione, but reception is very, very spotty where she is, participating in charity work to build a school in Africa—Pansy might not understand what drives Hermione to do it (or even like it, when it leads to her girlfriend leaving her behind for six months) but she can appreciate how happy and excited Hermione is by this opportunity.

She just really wishes it didn't also mean that apart from a weekly Skype call, the only contact she had with Hermione is through letters that take way too long to get there. Though at least Hermione is very good at writing those by now.

It is kind of amazing, even, how good Hermione has gotten at describing what happens around her—she manages to make Pansy feel like she's there, too.

But as great as those letters are, they don't manage to fill in the holes Hermione has left in Pansy's life. In fact, they only make her miss her girlfriend more, which is terribly frustrating when she still has a little over four months to go.

Nevertheless, Pansy thinks that they've been handling the separation well—it makes her wonder if maybe Hermione hadn't been right, after all, when she had been so sure that they could do the long distance thing Pansy hadn't really dared believing could work.

* * *

It probably doesn't say anything good about Pansy that she only notices the white bandages around her girlfriend's wrist until almost fifteen minutes into the Skype call. In her defense, though, Hermione had clearly been trying to hide it, keeping her arm out of sight; and it's only now that she tried to bat away at some flying insect that Pansy has been able to see it.

"You're hurt," she blurts out, leaning toward her computer instinctively, wishing she could reach through the screen and hold Hermione, make sure she was okay.

Hermione's cheeks flush pink, and she scratches her nose awkwardly. "It's nothing, really," she hastens to say. "I fell earlier this week while working and I hurt my wrist, but it barely hurts anymore. See?" She rotates her wrist with barely a flinch, and the sight appeases Pansy's frantically beating heart.

"You've seen a doctor, then, I hope," Pansy replies, shifting back in her seat.

Hermione rolls her eyes fondly—on the screen, with its cut-off, slightly delayed feed, it makes her look mad. "Yes, _mum_ , I've seen a doctor. Who cleared me right away—the bandage is mostly for show by now, but I'd rather wear it longer than I have to than not enough."

Pansy huffs loudly. "Excuse me for caring about what happens to you, Hermione."

It makes Hermione smile, just like Pansy had known it would. "Love you, too, Pansy—and I swear, I'll be fine. You know me, right? You know I'll be careful."

"You'd better," Pansy mumbles. "I'm kinda attached to you by now."

Hermione laughs, though that sound is cut off too quickly when someone calls her name off screen. Her smile dims, but doesn't disappear as she shouts back something in a dialect Pansy doesn't understand before turning back to Pansy, eyes soft.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to go soon. I was wondering, though… Would you like to join us?"

"Join you?" Pansy frowns.

For some reason, that makes Hermione chuckle. "Yes, join us—join _me_ , here. I know you have holidays coming up, you could take a week to visit me. Plus, I'm sure you could work on a nice article to impress your teachers with out here."

It makes something in Pansy's chest hurt, to hear Hermione mention so casually that she's thought of Pansy's work. So many people have dismissed her dream of becoming a journalist as meaningless, that it feels almost too much to have someone who loves her and supports her choice.

"I'll think about it," Pansy replies, mind already at work to figure out how she could make this work.

"That means yes," Hermione laughs.

"That means I'll think about it," Pansy corrects with a fake glare, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue at Hermione.

"Sure," Hermione nods with false seriousness. "I understand. Anyway, _if_ you decide to come, you'll find all the information you need on my desk, in a big manilla envelope."

"Encouraging me to break into your place?" Pansy smirks. "My, how rebellious of you, Hermione."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You have a key, Pansy," she drawls. "I'd hardly call that breaking in."

Pansy lets her smirk ease into a smile, fingers reaching up almost against her while to trace Hermione's face against the screen.

"I miss you," she sighs.

"I miss you, too," Hermione replies instantly. "I really do have to go now, though," she sighs reluctantly. "Til next week?"

"Til next week," Pansy confirms, smiling.

They send each other a kiss, and all too quickly, Pansy's screen goes black, Hermione's face vanishing from sight.

She sighs and lets herself lean back in her chair for a minute, before she stands up suddenly and grabs her keys—it seems like she has places to be.


	6. Engagement

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event - A Proposal, the Comic Book Day Event - (character) Hermione Granger, and the Writing Club - Showtime: What'd I Miss: (object) Purple velvet.

 _Word count:_ 1013

* * *

 ** **Engagement****

It starts with a "Will you move in with me?" when Hermione's breathless from being kissed, happiness bubbling in her chest as she lays next to Pansy in her girlfriend's bed.

Pansy's sheets are a deep purple silk, and they are terribly decadent, but they also feel a hundred times better on her skin than the cotton sheets Hermione grew up with (and still uses)—also, Hermione can't really see Pansy ever owning plain white sheets like everyone else. They makes her want to stay in bed forever, preferably with Pansy by her side.

When Hermione doesn't reply, Pansy asks again, fingers trailing slowly up Hermione's naked arm. "So, what do you say?"

Hermione tries to restrain her grin—she's rather sure they need to talk about this a little—but she fails spectacularly. "I would love to," she replies, rolling over so she can face Pansy. "But should we stay in your place or try to find something new?"

Pansy shrugs, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, my place is big enough to fit most of your furniture—the few items that are worth saving, anyway—so you could theoretically just move _here_ ," Pansy says, smirking as her fingers trace meaningless patterns on Hermione's skin.

"Theoretically, huh?" Hermione huffs a laugh, shoving at Pansy playfully. "And what do you even have against my furniture? It's fine—perfectly functional."

"It's ugly," Pansy replies with a grimace, like this is a sin Hermione's furniture actually committed against her.

"Functional," Hermione counters. "Because honestly, you can't tell me that the purple velvet chair you have here," she says, pointing at said monstrosity—thankfully almost invisible underneath heaps of discarded clothes—accusingly, "is actually _fashionable_ or even remotely useful.

"It's comfortable," Pansy pouts, burying a giggle in Hermione's neck, her breath warm and tickling against her skin.

"It's _purple_ , Pansy," Hermione deadpans.

"It goes with my sheets, though," she replies, and she sounds so sure—so free, even—that Hermione can only laugh.

And yes, Hermione wants to move in with this girl, wants to have a thousand mornings just like this one, wants to argue about furnitures and clothes she doesn't care for and fight for the last chocolate brownie when they watch Pansy's ridiculously addicting romance comedies.

She wants all this and more, and yes, this is where it starts.

* * *

It's not like Hermione's never considered marriage, per se. It's just that it's always been an abstract kind of idea for her—a child's daydream, at most, where, before she'd realized that she didn't only like boys, she'd made up a husband who'd support her in everything, and maybe a child or two that they'd raise to be amazing.

Somehow, that dream had never quite shifted into having a wife—into building a family for a woman.

It's difficult to understand why, exactly, when living with Pansy feels so natural, so perfect. When now, imagining a future with Pansy is so much easier than creating a fake husband in her head had ever been.

But it doesn't really help her with her current dilemma of how soon is _too soon_ when you want to start planning a marriage proposal, now, does it?

But well, she supposes that they can talk about it.

* * *

"Have you ever thought about marriage?" Hermione asks one afternoon as they're walking home arm in arm.

Pansy falters and almost trips, her free hand flying up to grab at Hermione's arm to steady herself. "I, what?"

"Marriage," Hermione replies, biting her lips so she doesn't laugh. "Have you ever thought about it?"

Pansy looks at her with eyes so fond it steals Hermione's breath away—like she can't believe that Hermione is real and in her life.

It is a look Hermione knows well: she sees it on her own face whenever she thinks about Pansy, standing in front of a mirror.

Pansy remains silent for a long time, but though Hermione's heart pounds in her chest, she doesn't dare ask again—she can see that Pansy is thinking about her question, surprised as she was by it, and Hermione doesn't want to interrupt that.

"I don't know," Pansy finally says, and it sounds like a confession. "I guess… Not really. I haven't exactly been in a lot of serious relationships before, you know," she adds, sending Hermione a half-fond, half-teasing smile.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Me neither, you know. But I was thinking… I really do love you, and we already live together, and I can't imagine a future where you're not by my side. So, if maybe you wanted to…"

Pansy's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with excitement she can't hide. "Yes?"

Hermione shoves her gently. "Come on, don't be an ass, you know what I mean. I was wondering if you'd be interested, that's all."

"In getting married?"

" _Yes_ ," Hermione drawls, amused. "In getting married—to me," she adds, before Pansy can try to annoy her by pretending she doesn't know that already.

"Yes," Pansy replies, grinning. "I would be interested in marrying you."

It all sounds very dry and unromantic when said like that—or it should, but the mere fact that it's Pansy speaking has Hermione's heart in overdrive. Besides, it's not like she wanted to hear anything but the 'yes' part of it.

Hermione feels her lips stretch into a happy grin. "Did we just get engaged?" she breathes disbelievingly, before Pansy's lips crash against hers, and she forgets how to think for a little while.

* * *

Later, back home, while Pansy has already started looking at rings online—if only to make a pre-selection before going to the shops (shops with an 's', Hermione is going to die)—Hermione suddenly starts laughing.

"What is it?" Pansy asks, head jerking up almost instantly at the sound.

"Nothing," Hermione chuckles. "It's just… You're going to have to meet my parents, now. I can't believe you haven't already."

Pansy huffs a laugh. "Well, we did have some bad luck on that front. Besides, it's not like _you_ have met _my_ parents either, remember?"

Hermione's inner panic must show on her face, because Pansy laughs, shooting Hermione a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, they're going to love you."


	7. Meeting The Parents

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event - Meeting the Parents and the Comic Book Day Event - (character) Pansy Parkinson.

 _Word count:_ 1040

* * *

 **Meet The Parents**

"Relax," Hermione laughs, fingers playing with a loose strand of hair on Pansy's neck. "I told you, everything's going to be fine—my parents will love you, really, you have nothing to worry about."

Pansy scowls a little, shifting her hips as she tries to adjust her dress one more time. "Well, I seem to remember you being the same way when you had to meet my parents last week, so you don't exactly have much to brag about."

"And you were right," Hermione replies. "You told me not to worry, and that your parents would love me, and guess what? They did like me, just like you had said they would. So just, trust me on this, okay?"

Pansy sighs. "Okay." She gives an experimental twirl in front of the mirror, bending back a little to check her back, and Hermione's heart skips a beat. "Do I look okay?" Pansy asks, and yeah, she's perfectly aware of how 'okay' she looks right now, if the smug smirk on her lips and the quick flick of her eyes to eyes to Hermione's reddening cheeks are anything to go by.

"Yeah, y-you're fine," Hermione stutters. Even now, after dating for almost three years—and getting engaged—Pansy can still make her blush like it's the first time they met. It'd be heartwarming if it wasn't so frustrating.

Pansy laughs. "You were right," she teases, stepping away from the mirror and grabbing the black jacket she had swung over the ugly purple velvet armchair she refused to get rid off. "I did need to relax a little."

Hermione tries to glare at her, but she's too amused for it to truly work, so she settles for a half-hearted scowl. "Ready to go, then?" she asks, desperate to change the subject.

Pansy heaves a long sigh and squares her shoulders. It looks like she's going to war like this, and it makes Hermione chuckle. "You'll be fine," she repeats. "But come on, let's go."

Once they've left the flat, Hermione slips her hand into Pansy's, entangling her fingers softly. "Hey," she says kindly, bumping their shoulders, "you really have nothing to worry about. I love you, and I've told them so much about you that it's probably going to be like they know you already."

"I love you, too," Pansy huffs, unwinding a little. "And really? What did you tell them?"

"Oh, this and that," Hermione teases. "You know, the good stuff. The things that matter."

"As long as you didn't tell them about that time I walked right into you thinking you were the pizza guy," she snorts.

"Well, actually, now that you mention it…"

"You didn't."

Pansy's look of outraged offense is too much, and Hermione bends over, laughing.

"Sorry, sorry," she manages through her tears. "I couldn't resist."

Pansy scowls, but the gesture has no heat to it. "Well, do try to next time. Please."

Inhaling deeply to try to smother the remnants of her laughter, Hermione nods. "Sure, I can do that."

Pansy did just say that she only had to try, and that's what Hermione intends to do: try. She never promised anything more.

* * *

The restaurant is filled to the brim when the get there, and Hermione is so very glad they thought to make reservations.

"See, what did I tell you?" Pansy whispers in her her, causing her to shiver as warm air hits her neck as they're lead to their table. "This place is always crowded on week-ends."

"Yes, fine, you can gloat," Hermione replies, rolling her eyes fondly.

Hermione's parents are already there, waiting. They stand up when they see Hermione coming, and greets their daughter with a warm hug and eager smiles.

"Look at you," Jean tells her daughter happily, "you're _glowing_."

Hermione flushes pink as she steps back from her mother's embrace. "Mum, Dad," she says, putting her arm around Pansy's waist, "this is Pansy."

"Ah, yes, your elusive girlfriend—fiancée, sorry,," her father teases.

" _Henry_ ," Jean warns, "be nice." She turns to Pansy, smiling warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Pansy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Pansy replies politely.

"Oh, please, call me Jean—and you can just call my husband Henry. I swear, his bark is worse than his bite," she adds, winking.

"Now, dear, don't go telling Pansy all my secrets yet," Henry replies, laughing.

Because Hermione knows from experience just how long her parents can go on once they start teasing each other, she clears her throat, and asks, "Should we sit?"

"Yes, good idea, Hermione. Let's sit," her mother replies.

Her parents take back their earlier seats, leaving Hermione to sit next to Pansy and across from her mother.

Dinner goes well, in Hermione's opinion. As she had predicted, her parents love Pansy, and once the awkward questions ("Would you say that you have a good oral hygiene?", or even "We can recommend a very nice baker for the wedding who'll make you a sugar-free cake if you want.") have passed, Pansy truly relaxes, charming Hermione's parents as quickly as she had their daughter.

Pansy's a bit tipsy on their way back, but they decline Henry's offer to drive them home, opting to take a taxi.

"See?" Hermione says once her parents have left. "What did I tell you? You had nothing to worry about."

Pansy huffs a laugh and nuzzle against Hermione's cheeks affectionately.

"You definitely shouldn't have that much wine," Hermione notes, amused. "Don't blame me if you're hungover tomorrow morning."

"I'll drink some water when we get home," Pansy yawns. "It'll be fine—you know I never get hungover."

"Oh, trust me, I know," Hermione snorts. "And I still find it deeply unfair."

Pansy shrugs, eyes and smile bright. "Don't be jealous, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not jealous," Hermione lies, lips quirked up in a smile. "What? I'm not," she laughs when Pansy just shoots her a doubtful look.

"I'm not," she repeats, laughing.

Pansy nods pityingly, hand patting Hermione's arm in slightly uncoordinated moves. "Sure," she slurs. "Whatever you say."

The taxi pulls in just then, and Hermione huffs another laugh fondly. "Come on," she says, holding the door open for Pansy to climb in first. "Let's go home."


	8. Waiting To Start

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event: A Wedding, the Coming Book Day Event: (character) Harry Potter and the Roald Dahl Day Event: The Chocolate Room - Write about a dream come true.

 _Word count:_ 734

* * *

 **Waiting To Start**

"I still can't believe that you're the first of us to get married," Harry announces, half-pouting, half-bewildered.

It makes him look ridiculous as he leans back in his chair, and Hermione laughs as she adjusts her veil a little. "Well, it's your own fault for not proposing to Ginny yet."

"Actually, we've decided to wait until she got a job more London based," Harry shrugs. "We just don't want to be one of those couples who have a years-long engagement because they can't get married, or who end up getting hitched because it's the easiest option."

Hermione laughs. "Molly would kill you if you got hitched," she points out.

"I _know_ ," Harry moans. "She'd be so disappointed, too, it would be terrible."

"And how many times have you had to tell that to Ginny yet?" Hermione teases, trying to pick a lipstick—how did Pansy accumulate so many different shades when Hermione had only two: a light pink for the days and a dark red for the nights she wanted to appear a little more adventurous, Hermione would never know. Nor would she ever understand what had lead her to believe that it was a good idea to borrow her fiancée's makeup, for that matter.

Still, Pansy is her _fiancée_ —her _wife_ , even, in a few hours, and that thought somehow makes her giddy with excitement and lightheaded with anxiety as she thinks of all the little details that could go wrong.

"Ten times already since last week, when she came back from France," Harry complains, and his voice snaps Hermione out of her reverie, startling her so badly that her pink lipstick jerks to her cheek, leaving a wide mark from the right corner of her lips and almost to her ear.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asks, eyeing the disaster on her face and reaching for her makeup wipes.

Harry snorts. "I said that Ginny's tried to convince me ten times in less than two weeks," he replies. "But you were elsewhere, weren't you? Thinking about your lady, maybe?"

Hermione feels her cheeks heat up. "So what if I was?" she counters, shifting in her seat to get a better angle on her face in the mirror. "It's my wedding day, you know—if there ever was a day to get distracted by my 'lady', as you say, it would be this one."

"Touché," Harry laughs.

Hermione sends him a fond smile before turning back to her mirror, determined to get her makeup right this time.

Harry's knees creak as he gets up, and Hermione bites back a giggle.

Not well enough, though, since Harry apparently notices. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says, eyeroll audible in his tone. "But anyway, I should go—leave you to finish getting prepared in peace." In her mirror, Hermione can see him wink as he adds, "Hopefully this way you'll avoid any further incidents."

Growling with fake anger, Hermione spins around and throws her pack of makeup wipes at him—she'd been considering one of the tubes of lipsticks, as they were closer, but they're also not hers, and she doesn't _actually_ want to hurt Harry.

Harry catches it with a laugh. He fiddles with it a little, before crossing over to Hermione and setting it back down on the table where it came from. "You might need this, you know," he adds cheekily, dancing away from Hermione's attempt to slap his arm and pressing a featherlight kiss atop her veil-covered hair.

"Good luck," he finally says as he leaves the room.

Hermione is unable to stop her grin as she replies. "Thanks. Now, leave," she adds, sending him a mock glare.

Once Harry's left, his laughter still echoing in her ears, Hermione focuses back on her reflection.

She almost doesn't recognize herself—it's the smile, she knows. The smile changes everything. It's a giddier version of the slightly enamoured smile she gets every morning when she remembers that she woke up next to Pansy, that they live together, as she notices the second toothbrush on the sink, but somehow it makes all the difference.

She's dreamed about this, she realizes, and from there on it's the easiest thing to just wait for the ceremony to start—wait for her time to come—eagerly, because really, there is nothing scary about this, not when it simply means binding her life to Pansy's.

And there is nothing easier, nothing simpler, than that.


	9. Blackberries

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club - Showtime: Wait For It: (object) a watch, the Roald Dahl Day Event: Blackberry sausage - Write about a family/couple picking blackberries and the Granger Danger Event: Slice of Life.

 _Word count:_ 976

* * *

 **Blackberries**

"You know, by my watch it's been almost two hours since we've set out, and we're still nowhere near those fabulous blackberry bushes you've promised me," Pansy complains, pointing at said watch, her breathing chopped as she hops around another stone in their path. "Are you sure we aren't lost? You did say you hadn't come here in years, it's possible you didn't remember the path correctly, you know. You can admit, I'd still love you, and I wouldn't hold it against you."

Equally breathless, Hermione laughs. "Much, right?" she teases.

"Much," Pansy confirms shamelessly. She pauses to take a long swig from her water bottle, and Hermione pauses to admire the long line of her neck, only averting her eyes, cheeks flushing pink, when Pansy shoots her a pointed look.

"You do remember us being married, right?" she teases. "You're allowed to stare if you want to."

Hermione very maturely sticks out her tongue at her wife. "You know, I _was_ going to tell you how long we still had to go, but now it seems like I've completely forgotten." She smiles widely, faking forgetfulness. "What a shame, am I right?"

"Hermione…" Pansy says, batting her eyelashes pleadingly. "Come on, it's been _two hours_. Can't you just tell me how much further?"

"Nope," Hermione replies brightly, popping the 'p', as she starts walking again. "I just told you, I so very unfortunately forgot. But just think—however long we'll walk to get there, we'll have to do it all over again on our way back! Isn't it amazing?"

Pansy groans, but follows. ""This is the last time I let you plan one of our dates—no, this is the last time you're _allowed_ to plan one of our dates, _period_. ' _Oh, Pansy, I know this great place from when I was a kid, we should go! It's a bit of a walk, but it's a great bonding experience, you'll see!'_

"I'll give you 'bonding experiences'," Pansy grumbles, only narrowly avoiding twisting her ankle as she steps on an unsteady rock.

Hermione grabs her shoulder immediately to steady her, smiling fondly. "You didn't seem to complain half this much the _last time_ I planned one of our dates," she points out. "In fact, if memory serves, you seemed to rather… _enjoy_ it."

Pansy's cheeks darken at the memory. She licks her lips. "That was different," she replies, voice rough.

"How so?" Hermione huffs laughingly. "We're in a beautiful place, we're together, and we're exercising—I don't see much of a difference, really," she teases, nodding pensively.

Pansy scowls. "It just was," she mumbles, but Hermione can see that she isn't truly angry.

She sighs, hitching her backpack up her shoulders. "These blackberries of yours better be worth it, Hermione. They better be _divine_."

"They are, I swear," Hermione chuckles. "But we should keep going if we want to get there at some point."

"Fine, fine."

The truth is, they're really almost there. They can't see it yet, because their path has been uphill for a while now, but it will start going back down soon. Hermione wouldn't simply forget the way the trees looked as they started to bend together in shapes her eight-year-old self had once found terrifying, signaling that they were getting to a deeper yet sunnier part of the woods they'd been walking through for the past couple of hours.

She remembers how excited she'd been when her parents had brought her here for the first time—she, too, had complained most of the way there—and yesterday, waking up, she hadn't wanted anything more than to share that memory with her wife.

Pansy's low gasp, and the way her eyes widen in wonder, as she takes in a small sunlit clearing branching out, white birch trees caging it like a precious treasure. And there, on the other side of the clearing, straight into the sunlight's path, are the blackberry bushes Hermione remembers.

She smiles, slipping her hand into Pansy's and holding it tightly. "Worth it, huh?"

"It's not bad," Pansy replies, but her attempt at pretending that she's not impressed falls through when her eyes refuse to leave the sight before her.

Hermione snorts, but chooses not to reply, leading Pansy forward. Up close, the berries big and ripe, standing out easily to Hermione's eyes against the green foliage, and Hermione reaches to pick them carefully.

"Only get the ones well above ground," Hermione cautions. "Even if they're not the easiest one to get."

"Why?" Pansy frowns.

Smirking, Hermione explains, "Well, these aren't the blackberries you get in the supermarket—there isn't anyone here to clean them for us. We don't want to eat some foxes might have peed on, I read that they can give you this nasty illness." She shrugs a little, biting back laughter as Pansy starts eyeing the berries in suspicion. She pops one in her mouth anyway, savouring the sharp burst of flavor.

"Oh, relax," she laughs, shoving at Pansy's shoulder lightly. "I did this for years with my parents and never got sick, it's perfectly safe. Now come on," she says, picking another berry and pressing it against Pansy's lips, letting the juice stain them violet-red, "try one. They're delicious."

Though Pansy does narrow her eyes at Hermione, she does open her mouth, accepting the fruit and sucking Hermione's finger clean at the same time with a mischievous smirk.

"See?" Hermione replies, voice a little strangled. "They're great. Worth the trip, don't you think?"

Pansy smiles, pressing their bodies close together. Heart pounding in her chest, hermione finds herself closing her eyes as Pansy leans in closer.

The expected brush of lips doesn't quite come. Instead she gets a warm breath tickling against her cheek, and an arm snaking behind her before Pansy steps back, looking terribly smug as she pops a berry in her mouth. "Like I said, _not bad_."


	10. Wanting

Written for Hogwarts' Astronomy Assignment - Uranus: Write a story set in winter., the Granger Danger Event: Motherhood, the Writing Club - A Year in Entertainment: (object) jello.

Still a Muggle!AU, established PansyHermione relationship.

 _Word count:_ 881

* * *

 **Wanting**

It's snowing the first time Hermione realizes that she wants kids. She's just left her usual coffee shop—for once, she didn't even get coffee, but treated herself to a nice, warm hot chocolate that is just what she needs by this weather—and she's walking toward a nearby park, enjoying the way snowflakes cling to her hair and eyelashes for a handful of seconds before melting.

She isn't supposed to meet with Pansy for another hour—something about a story she's been chasing leading her to weird places and even odder hours—but she doesn't have the heart to head back inside.

She's just finished with her drink, now picking at the cardboard edge with her fingernails and savoring the way she can almost feel warmth radiating through her veins from when she drunk, when she sees them.

Three kids, two boys and a girl. They're laughing, the girl chasing after the boys and pelting snowballs at their back—or trying to, anyway. She doesn't appear to be very good at making these, since almost all of her snowballs disintegrate in the air, snow drifting back down to the ground.

But she keeps trying, and she doesn't stop laughing—not even one of the boys, wearing the ugliest and reddest parka Hermione's ever seen, gets her right in the face, snow sticking to her blue scarf as she tries to wipe it off.

They're playing, and their parents are just there, at the edge of their made-up playground, taking pictures—and suddenly, yeah, Hermione realizes that she wants _that_.

She wants to have children she can make snow angels with, and fail to build a snowman with—she's never been good at those, and the one time Pansy had tried to help her they'd eventually both decided their interests were better served if her wife remained far, far away from the action.

She wants to make ornaments with them, the way her parents taught her, and have Pansy show them all up by making hers look impossibly professional, sending Hermione that smug look she gets when she knows she was the best at something.

It's a desire so strong it almost hurts, but more than pain, she feels fear also.

Because they've been married for a while now—almost two years (two glorious, wonderful years)—but they've never really talked about children, not even in passing, and Hermione has no idea if Pansy even wants to have kids.

She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't even realize that she's left the park and is now back on the street until a car swerves not to hit her as she crosses the street—the light is red, and Hermione runs to the other side, shouting apologies to the drivers, heart pounding in her chest.

With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she feels very warm, even in the chilled air of winter. Somewhat stupidly, she finds herself laughing in relief, and her smile hurts her freezing cheeks.

It hurts even more to try to stop smiling, though, so she doesn't—and some time later, when Hermione reaches the restaurant she and Pansy had settled on for dinner earlier, Pansy takes one look at her face and rolls her eyes fondly.

"Someone had a good day, I see" she smirks, pressing a soft kiss to Hermione's lips in greeting.

"Maybe," Hermione replies, trying to sound mysterious. They step inside, and Hermione's cheeks immediately start to warm—it feels a little odd, to get back the freedom to move her face normally. It tingles, like a limb gone numb from being leaned on for too long.

She thinks back to that park, and those children, and Hermione's stomach flutters. "Okay, fine, I did have a good day," she corrects, smiling happily.

That happy, bubbly kind of excitement stays with her all throughout dinner, but it is not until dessert arrives that Hermione finds the courage to voice the questions stuck in her throat.

"I… What do you think about children?" she asks, spoon playing with her fruit salad. She raises her head a bit, staring straight into Pansy's brown eyes. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and swallowing becomes difficult—this moment, she knows, has suddenly become so very important.

"About them in general or about children as they relate to us?" Pansy asks, arching an eyebrow at Hermione. Her voice is lightly teasing, and her eyes sparkle just that tiny bit with amusement, and something in Hermione's chest eases.

"Both. Either." Hermione shrugs, busying her hands with tracing the rim of her wineglass.

"I don't…" Pansy frowns, pushing at her own dessert with her fork. The green jello flops around, and Hermione bites back a laugh. "I guess I just haven't really thought about it. But…" Her lips pull up into a small smile, and when she looks at Hermione, her eyes are teasing. "Raising kids with you? There are worse things to think about."

Which isn't: _I want to, let's do it_. But it also isn't a refusal.

It isn't a _no_.

Hermione's heart speeds up, a trapped hummingbird beating its wings against her ribs. "So… What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, maybe we should talk about it some more," Pansy replies. "But maybe I wouldn't be entirely _opposed_ to the idea."

She winks, and Hermione laughs.

"Alright, then. Let's talk."


	11. Anniversary

Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event - Anniversary, the Writing Club - Showtime - Right Hand Man: (word) Assistance and the Swimming Assignment - Write about a scenario where the saying 'sometimes, less is more' holds true.

Still a Muggle!AU, established relationship.

 _Word count:_ 1637

* * *

 **Anniversary**

"I need your help."

Ginny looks up from her desk computer, startled, and clicks off her pen, setting it down on her notepad.

"Hello to you, too, Hermione," Ginny drawls, smirking as she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. "How are you? I haven't see you in a while. _Oh, hi, Ginny. I'm fine, too, it's so lovely to see you,_ " she says, mimicking Hermione's voice.

Badly.

Hermione rolls her eyes, hand resting flat on Ginny's desk. " _Oh, hi, Ginny. I'm fine, too, it's so lovely to see you,_ " she parrots, deeply unimpressed. "Like I said," she repeats, "I need your help. Please?"

Ginny frowns. "Do you need me to call Harry for you? Or Ron? You know, if they didn't pick up when you called it's probably because they forgot to charge their phones again. God knows Ron's always been useless at it, and you know how much I love him, but Harry's not much better," she says fondly.

"That's not—I didn't want to talk to the boys, I wanted to talk to you," Hermione admits, and the words are difficult to voice. They stick inside her throat like tar, and for a long few moments, Hermione hadn't been sure she'd be able to get them out.

Ginny blinks in surprise, mouth falling open. "Oh," she says, unable to stop herself from grinning. "What did you want to talk to me about, then? What do you need my help with?"

"I… I know you and Harry celebrated your, what was it, sixth year anniversary last month?"

"Seventh, actually," Ginny corrects, smiling fondly. It makes Hermione smile back, too, and she wonders if she also looks like that when thinks about Pansy.

She probably does.

"Seventh, sorry," Hermione replies sheepishly. "I know you had dinner at a nice restaurant, and that like, it went fine, but I just… I don't know how to make it different from a normal date."

Ginny's brow furrows for a moment before her eyes light up. "Oh, right," she smiles, "your first wedding anniversary is coming up pretty soon, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione moans, leaning against the table. "And I don't know what to do. Ginny, you have to help me out here."

Ginny looks gleeful at the thought, and it eases some of the anxiety in Hermione's chest—but not all of it, because while Ginny often has good ideas, they're not always _sane_ ideas. Like that time she convinced Hermione that breaking into the pool by their university was the 'best idea ever', or the time she had decided they needed to go bar hopping after she and Pansy had had their first real fight.

Ginny hums a low note for a moment, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward a bit. "Well, what do you usually do to celebrate an anniversary? Maybe you could build on that?"

"We don't really do anything to celebrate?" she grimaces, sighing deeply. "At least, we don't do anything differently from our usual dating routine? But this is different—this is our _wedding_ anniversary, not just a _normal_ one. I want it to be different, to mean more.

"So," she repeats, trying to put all the desperate need she feels in her voice, "can you help me?"

Ginny huffs a laugh. "Come on, Hermione, you're practically my sister by now. Of course, I can help you! And with my wonderful, _magical_ assistance, we'll make sure you have an anniversary neither you nor Pansy can forget."

"Thanks," Hermione smiles. She considers Ginny family, too, but it's always nice to hear it said out loud. "So, where do we start?"

Ginny looks at her desk for a moment, then shakes her head. She gets up smoothly, grabbing the jacket on the back of her chair in a smooth, flowing motion Hermione can't help but be jealous of.

"We start with me going on break," she says. "That way, we can properly brainstorm over hot drinks—you know that that is the _only_ way to properly brainstorm."

Those words bring back memories of college—of cramming days of revisions into a single, sleepless night fueled by copious amounts of caffeine, and Hermione smiles. "That I do."

* * *

They could have taken their break in Ginny's office, but the redhead insists on them walking down to an actual coffee shop.

"They make these pastries, Hermione… They're to _die_ for." Ginny shakes her head a little, eyes riveted to the small presentoir as she licks her lips slowly. "I know you're not a fan of sugar and desserts, but seriously, you haven't lived until you've tried one of their peach and raspberry cupcakes."

"I'll trust you on that," Hermione huffs, still smiling, as they wait in line.

Minutes later, orders in hand, they're sitting at a small table by the window overlooking the street outside, their drinks in front of them.

"So," Ginny starts, wrapping her hands around her fuming cup, "do you have any ideas already?"

Hermione shakes her head regretfully. "Not really, no. That's kind of the problem—everything I come up with seems like just another one of our dates, and I really want this to be different."

Ginny smiles gently. "Well, if it works for you… Maybe just add some kind of gift you know she'll like, make it a bit more romantic than you usually would?" She shrugs. "You know, sometimes, less really is more—you don't have to make a grand gesture to show Pansy that you love her; she already knows that. Like I said earlier, just build on what you have, and you'll be fine."

"Is that what you and Harry do?" Hermione asks curiously, arching an eyebrow at her friend.

Ginny chuckles as she shakes her head. "God, no. You know Harry, he's actually a hopeless romantic—he likes to makes every single celebration into some kind of unforgettable moment, even if he is still private about it. But that's us—you can't tell me the same appeals to you."

She's right, too. Ginny's right. Hermione can't imagine Pansy being happy with Hermione making some _big_ thing out of their first anniversary. Or maybe those aren't the right words—she'd be happy, but she wouldn't be as satisfied as she could be, if Hermione simply took her to a nice romantic dinner under the stars, the way they used to when they were still in college and hadn't had the time nor the money (at least, on Hermione's part) to do more.

Pansy likes the finer things in life, yes, but as she's continually reminding Hermione, she likes her wife more.

"You're right," Hermione finally says. "We're not really into the _grand gesture_ type of thing."

"I'm always right," Ginny winks. "And there's nothing wrong with that," she adds, sipping at her drink. "Anything else you need my help with?" Her smile turns diabolical as she wiggles her eyebrows. "Anything you might want tips on?"

It takes Hermione a moment to understand what Ginny is getting at, but when she does, her cheeks flush red. "No, thank you," she hastens to answer, mortified. "No tips needed. Not for _that_ , anyway. But…"

"Yeah?" Ginny replies instantly, leaning forward in her chair, brown eyes twinkling.

"What kind of gift should I buy?" Hermione asks, and she hates that she doesn't know, hates that she can't think of an idea on her own that do, even if, thankfully, Ginny doesn't judge her.

"Well, if she likes flowers, you can always start with that. Maybe jewelry? I don't really know—what does she like, or is there anything she's noticed recently but didn't buy?"

Jewelry isn't a bad idea. Pansy wears some often enough, and she always casts longing glance to the jewelry shops they pass in front of. If she had her way, they'd spend hours looking at every showcased piece, and they'd never get anywhere.

She does need to think on it a bit more, but it's a start. And as far as these goes? It's even a pretty decent one.

"Thanks," she says, gracing Ginny with a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Ginny replies with a wink, before draining the last of her drink. She checks her watch and sighs regretfully. "Well, looks like I have to go back now—and _you_ have some shopping to do."

Hermione laughs ruefully, though it tainted with amusement. "I guess I do."

Ginny stands up. "Have fun, then. And tell me how it goes! I want to know _everything_."

"I will," Hermione laughs. "I swear."

* * *

It's lucky they married late in the spring, Hermione realizes, or her plan wouldn't work nearly as well. But it's nearly June, and the nights have already most most of their chill, so finding a restaurant with a romantic atmosphere that will let them seat outside is no great chore.

The hardest part, as Hermione had guessed it would be, is finding the perfect piece of jewelry to hang around Pansy's neck—but in the end, even that isn't as hard as she had feared.

The jeweller is very helpful, and in the end Hermione decides on a piece that drew her eyes instantly. It is the same stone as the one on Pansy's wedding ring—not a diamond, because Pansy thinks they are overrated, but a deep blue sapphire shaped like a drop of water that hangs on a silver chain.

Hermione would have opted for emeralds, since Pansy does prefer green to blue, but she knows her wife—and Pansy's favorite color may be green, but her favorite jewel is the sapphire.

Their anniversary is simple, in the end—indeed, if not for that gift, and the one she receives in exchange (a beautiful, handcrafted pen engraved with her initials, because Pansy knows her, too), if could very well be one of the thousands of dates they've already had—but it is perfect.

It is everything Hermione wanted it to be, and more.


End file.
